


The Systemic Veins

by teatoves (rosasynstylae)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-12-11
Updated: 2011-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:02:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosasynstylae/pseuds/teatoves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would try harder to be normal and make Sherlock seem normal. Tomorrow he would be good and Sherlock would be good and they would finally get adopted. Tomorrow." Orphan kids Mycroft and Sherlock, Adult John, John/Dimmock, Eventual Anthea/Mycroft</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, don’t even ask about the John/Dimmock. I blame Baz. This started as a fill for a prompt on the kink meme, then ended up not filling the prompt like it was supposed to fill it, and turned into a whole ton of chapters.

Mycroft read the book quietly to his younger brother, who was curled up in his lap. "Most of the veins of the heart open into the coronary sinus. This is a wide venous channel about 2.25 cm. in length situated in the posterior part of the coronary sulcus, and covered by muscular fibers from the left atrium." Sherlock shifted, pulling his fingers out of his mouth and quietly letting Mycroft use Sherlock's hand to point out each of the body parts on the drawing in the book. Mycroft smiled and kissed his brother's forehead. The three year old giggled sleepily and the older boy put a bookmark in.

"We can continue the systemic veins tomorrow, Sherlock."

Sherlock whined softly and snuggled close to Mycroft, putting his fingers back in his mouth. Mycroft smiled and turned off the light, pulling the blankets over them and pulling his brother close.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would try harder to be normal and make Sherlock seem normal. Tomorrow he would be good and Sherlock would be good and they would finally get adopted. Tomorrow.

\-------

John yawned as he pulled Gray's Anatomy out of his bookshelf and opened it to a random page. God, he felt so old. He had read this book ages ago in Uni. He ran his fingers over the words. Most of the veins of the heart open into the coronary sinus. This is a wide venous channel about 2.25 cm. in length situated in the posterior part of the coronary sulcus, and covered by muscular fibers from the left atrium.

His phone rang loudly, jarring him from his thoughts. He picked up the phone and opened it, pressing it to his ear as he put down his book. "Hello?"

"John, it's Greg."

John smiled and sat down in his chair. He had met Greg, a copper, at a pub, where they had bonded over their favorite football teams. It quickly became a weekly thing, if Greg hadn't been called into work for a murder.

"Hello, Greg. Are you going to have to cancel tomorrow's drinking?"

"No, no. I just remembered that you were looking to adopt some kids, and I met these two orphans…"

\-------

Mycroft held his little brother's hand tightly as he sat in his spot, watching the adults who were talking with the kids. Most of them couldn't have kids on their own for one reason or another. A few had come to talk to them, but after Mycroft slipped up - for the third time that day he said he was going to be better for Sherlock it had been months but he still slipped up he had to try harder harder- no one had come by, seeing how the other adults reacted to them. Sherlock was quiet, alternating between fidgeting, looking around at the kids and adults, and looking at Mycroft.

Mycroft sighed and leaned over, kissing Sherlock's forehead. "No one's going to take us today," he said quietly, squeezing the younger boy's hand, telling him silently that it was okay. They had each other.

The door opened and a man hobbled in, leaning heavily on a cane. Mycroft looked him over quietly. Ex-army, discharged honorably due to injuries. Doctor, most likely. Single. He had hesitated at the door, wondering if he could really give a kid a good home. A good man who would take good care of the child he adopted. And he hadn't seen Mycroft slip up yet.

Sherlock started to fidget more when Mycroft stiffened. The doctor looked around, talking to some other kids quietly, getting to know them, before ending up in front of Mycroft and Sherlock. Mycroft went to stand up, but sat back down as the doctor slowly lowered himself to kneel in front of them. He was a very good man. Mycroft couldn't slip up.

"No one has come by to talk to you two yet, as far as I can tell," the doctor frowned, "Are you okay?"

Mycroft could have exploded. He was at least somewhat observant, and he was worried that they weren't feeling well. Mycroft shook his head.

"No, we're fine."

The doctor smiled at them.

"Alright. I'm John Watson. What are your names?"

Mycroft took a deep breath.

"I'm Mycroft and this is Sherlock, Dr. Watson."

"Those are odd names."

Doctor Watson was smiling knowingly. Why?

"I've been told they are, Dr. Watson."

"Well, Mycroft. Tell me how you knew I was a Doctor."

Mycroft froze. He had slipped up, again. He apologized mentally to Sherlock and sighed softly.

"My knew 'cause he's smart and actuwy wooks at peopwe," Sherlock said, moving closer to Mycroft. Mycroft wrapped an arm around his brother.

"I simply observed it from the details around you," he explained.

Doctor Watson, instead of looking shocked, or angry, or freaked out, smiled at the two. "Well, that's very interesting. And brilliant. You're both brilliant."

Mycroft almost gaped at him as he stood up slowly, still smiling. "And I think I'd like to take you two home with me."

\--------

Mycroft waited with the fidgety Sherlock at the door as Doctor Watson paid the taxi driver, before picking up the boys' suitcases and taking them to the door to wait with the boys as John unlocked the door.

The door swung open to reveal the inside of the house that Mycroft and his brother would be living in for at least the next two months.

The house smelled like Doctor Watson – jam and toast and books and medicine – and was extremely clean. Doctor Watson herded Mycroft, Sherlock and their two suitcases into the house and closed the door behind them. "Welcome home," he said quietly, smiling at the two.

Mycroft stood there, looking around, as Sherlock wiggled his hand out of Mycroft's and ran about to explore. Doctor Watson smiled at him. "Do you like it?" he asked, watching Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. Mycroft relaxed a bit. Doctor Watson already knew to keep a close eye on Sherlock. Good.

"It's very nice," Mycroft said quietly. He shouldn't get too comfortable yet. If Doctor Watson decided that he didn't want them in the next two months, he could send them back with no hassle. It was just a trial period.

Doctor Watson smiled at him. "Do you two want separate rooms, or do you want to share a room? I have enough rooms for both."

Mycroft looked over at Sherlock, who was looking at wonder at Doctor Watson's professional books. "Share," he said quietly. Doctor Watson picked up the suitcases again.

"Come on, Sherlock. Come see your new room!"

Sherlock turned away from the books and ran back over to them, taking Mycroft's hand again and following them into their room. It was large, and held a bookshelf, a desk, and a bed. Doctor Watson put the suitcases down. "I can bring Sherlock's bed in here tomorrow, but you might have to share tonight."

Mycroft just nodded, a bit stuck by how large it was. Sherlock looked around in wide-eyed awe.

Doctor Watson picked up Sherlock and smiled at them both. "Now what would you two like for dinner?"


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft yawned and opened his eyes slowly. He was still in the room in John’s house, staring at the wall. His body had curled around Sherlock in the night, who was still asleep. Mycroft yawned again and glanced out the window. Mycroft couldn’t know for certain, due to the new location, but it was probably somewhere around nine twenty. He had slept much later than he normally did.  
Mycroft shook Sherlock’s shoulders gently, and the young boy shifted and peered up at him. He read that there wasn’t anything wrong, just time to get up. Sherlock tumbled out of the bed, landing curled up. Mycroft smiled and got out of the bed after him, stretching. He paused for a moment, deciding whether to wear the clothes that John had bought for them or to wear the clothes they had brought. Sherlock watched him, before deciding for both of them by walking over to the suitcases and pulling out one of his shirts and a pair of pants. Mycroft smiled and got dressed quickly.  
John came in a while later, looking surprised to see them up. Mycroft finished pulling Sherlock’s shirt over the messy curls and turned to John, who was smiling.  
“Come on, you need to brush your teeth, then you can have breakfast.” John herded them both into the bathroom. Mycroft picked up a toothbrush, going to brush Sherlock’s teeth. John shook his head and took the toothbrush from Mycroft.  
“I’ll do it. You brush your own teeth.” John put a bit of toothpaste on the brush.  
Mycroft frowned. Sherlock only ever listened to him when it came to this sort of thing. It would be easier to let him do it than to fight with Sherlock.  
John smiled at Sherlock and carefully kneeled. “Open up, Sherlock.” To Mycroft’s surprise, Sherlock opened his mouth and John started to gently brush his teeth. After about thirty seconds, Sherlock started to get fidgety, bored and wanting to be done with this tedious activity. John shook his head. “Hold still,” he said quietly, “I’m almost done.” Sherlock whined, but John ignored it and kept brushing. Finally, Sherlock was so fidgety that John shook his head and took the brush out. “I suppose that’s good enough.” He stood up slowly and picked Sherlock up. “Spit.” Sherlock spit into the sink and John put him down to fill up a cup. “Swish.” Sherlock made a face, wanting to be done already, but swished as John picked him back up and then spit into the sink. He started to squirm and shot off as soon as John put him down again.  
John chuckled and Mycroft spit into the sink. John smiled at him. “Let’s go find out what your brother wants for breakfast.”  
They found Sherlock in John’s room, jumping on his bed. John shook his head and picked up Sherlock, who squirmed and cried. “I wanna jump!” John sighed and put the sulking Sherlock in a booster seat at the table. Mycroft sat next to him, folding his hands in his lap. He had to be good to outbalance Sherlock’s bad so John would still want them at the end of the two months. It was just the first day, and Sherlock was already making it hard.  
John shook his head, but fondly, not upset. Mycroft relaxed a little. “What do you want for breakfast, Mycroft? I have cereal and oatmeal, and I can make eggs and toast and bacon…” John listed for him. “I also have water, orange juice, apple juice and milk.”  
Mycroft blinked at him for a moment. “Could I have some oatmeal? And milk, please?” John nodded and put the kettle on to boil some water. Then he went over to Sherlock and picked him up. Sherlock wiggled and whined, but John held tight.  
“And what do you want, Sherlock?”  
“I wanna jump!”  
Mycroft tensed. Sherlock needed to stop. He needed to be good. John would take good care of them if he adopted them.  
John shook his head and put him up on the counter. “If you’re good, you get dessert.”  
Sherlock looked at him for a moment, processing the new information. “What do we get for dessert?”  
John smiled. “It’s a surprise. But I promise you’ll like it.”  
Sherlock thought about this for a moment before sitting down on the counter. “I want milk. And cereal.”  
John chuckled softly and kissed Sherlock’s forehead. “Alright. Milk and cereal it is.”  
Mycroft relaxed a little. It seemed John could handle Sherlock’s sulks. He really would be perfect. Mycroft stood up and padded over to them. John looked down at him and smiled, ruffling his hair. Mycroft smiled a little back. A perfect father for them.  
\-----  
Mycroft watched as John zipped up Sherlock’s jacket. Sherlock was fidgeting, and whining softly. Mycroft could clearly see what was going through his head. ‘It was obvious that he was ready to go! Why was John taking so long?!’ Mycroft walked across the living room as John got up, leaning heavily on his cane. He was having a bad day. Sometimes John could go without the cane, but sometimes he needed it badly.  
Sherlock raised his hands, asking to be picked up, and John sighed softly. “Not today, Sherlock.” Sherlock started to whine, but Mycroft took Sherlock’s hand and Sherlock fell quiet, but still pouted.  
John took them outside, locking the door behind them and hailed down a taxi. Sherlock smiled and bounced on his feet. Mycroft could see that he was excited that they were going out. John hadn’t been going to take them at first, but his friend had said there were going to be other kids there. They were going to John’s friend’s house. John went to see this friend, Mr. Lestrade, every Thursday to go drinking, but they were meeting up for Mr. Lestrade’s birthday party this time. Sherlock was ecstatic that he got to go out. They had only been able to the park with Mrs. Hudson, their babysitter.  
John got both of the kids into the taxi before sliding in himself, giving the address that the taxi was to drop them off at. Sherlock crawled into Mycroft’s lap to look out the window at the darkening city. Mycroft wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist, bracing them for when the taxi driver slowed to a stop at intersections.  
Sherlock watched the city go by with wide-eyes, even as the city faded into a more suburban area. The taxi slowly came to a stop and John paid the taxi driver as Sherlock and Mycroft climbed out. John slowly pulled himself out of the taxi, leaning on his cane and taking Sherlock’s hand, leading them up to a door and knocking.  
The door opened and the man at the door smiled. “John!”  
John chuckled. “Happy Birthday, Greg.”  
Mycroft frowned. This man had been the policeman that had given the orphanage a tour of the Yard. The man got down on his knees and held his hand out. “Detective Lestrade, as I’m sure you remember.”  
Sherlock took Lestrade’s hand and shook it. “You get to mess with bodies,” he stated simply. Detective Lestrade laughed and stood back up, gesturing for them to come in.  
Mycroft was looking around, watching the adults to see if any were potentially dangerous, when a little girl crashed right into him, knocking them both over with an oomph and a clatter.  
Mycroft took a deep breath to calm down and not yell at the girl as he stood up, before offering her a hand. She took it and got up, picking back up the cell phone that had fell from her hand. She checked it over for damage and then turned her attention to Mycroft, looking him over. Mycroft stared at her. She was about eight, and an average height. Her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail, with just a small wave to it. She stood confidently, not intimidated by anyone in the room. She was really pretty…  
The girl stuck out her hand. “I’m Anthea. I’m going to be a super spy gadget maker. And maybe also a super spy.”  
Mycroft blinked at her. She had paused just slightly before saying her name. It wasn’t her name. Why was she lying? Mycroft hesitated for a moment before reaching out and taking “Anthea’s” hand, shaking it. “I’m Mycroft…” He stopped. What did he want to be when he grew up…? “I want to be boss of the super spies!” he blurted out, blushing faintly.  
“Anthea” giggled and smiled. “Then you’d be my boss!” She grabbed his hand. “Come on, let’s play spies!”  
Mycroft bit his lip and looked over at his brother, who was now clinging to John’s leg, glaring at Anthea. John stopped his conversation to pat Sherlock’s head. “I’ll take care of Sherlock, Mycroft. Go play with your friend.”  
Mycroft smiled widely and let Anthea take his hand and drag him off.


End file.
